


Voyeur

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: “Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding an unusual fascination with his boss. Statement never given.”





	Voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> Time period on this is intentionally vague, but is roughly post-Ep 92.

“You need to let him rest.” Martin’s hands gripped the chair tightly, the sharp grooves digging into his palms. But it was this, or shake like a leaf. And you never wanted to let a monster know you’re scared. 

Elias regarded Martin impassively, hands resting casually on his desk. Under his fingertips, Martin could still see traces of a thousand mugs of tea that must have sat there, their damp leavings slowly corrupting the wood below. Elias didn’t look like a monster, or a murderer. He looked liked an academic, greying hair and a simple suit. Unassuming, unimposing. 

Always watching.

“Jon will be fine. There is little time left for this. If that’s all, Martin?” Elias had already dismissed him. If Martin were being honest, he’d dismissed him the second he’d walked through the door. But enough was enough. He’d seen the way Jon’s clothes hung off his frame, how he more often than not was cut, burned, or otherwise maimed by whatever creature Elias had sent him after now. And it wasn’t fair. 

“No, it’s not. I know you’re—that you—well, that there’s nothing I can really do to stop you. But I won’t stop insisting. I’m very persistent, and maybe that’s all I can be. But it’s something.” He hated the way his voice shook as he said it, and he tried to imagine he was Tim, who didn’t care. Melanie, who was brave. 

Jon, who never, ever stopped. 

And for the first time, Elias’s expression changed. Brow furrowed, he leaned forward across the desk. 

“Such loyalty. Such—nobility, to push so hard for Jon, who has done little to earn it. He’s treated you with scorn, then suspicion. Disregarded your worry and your care.”

Martin opened his mouth to protest, but Elias held up a hand, and the words remained buried deep in his throat.

“But is it nobility?” A small smile graced Elias’s face, and just then, Martin noticed a faint, familiar whirring. Elias cleared his throat.

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding an unusual fascination with his boss. Statement never given.”

Martin’s heart dropped, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop this.

“I try not to watch. Some days I even try to stay away. The archives are mess, and there are always other things to do, research and whatnot. I know he doesn’t think much of me, thinks I’m not as clever as Tim or Sasha. But that’s okay. He’s right. I just try to be as much use as I can.

“And maybe that’s why I started. The watching. Jon doesn’t eat like he should, or take breaks, or get enough to drink. So I think, well, this is one way I can help. My mum always said I made a great cup of tea. And Jon, well. Jon does drink it. He even thanked me, once. ‘Thank you, Martin,’ he said, so I know he knew it was me, that he hadn’t mistaken me for Sasha or Tim. I blushed and stammered. I don’t even know what I said, something daft, probably. But he didn’t even look up, didn’t notice.

“After that, it’s harder to keep away.”

“Stop.” Martin hated how small his voice was, how his earlier courage seemed to have drained away. “Please stop.”

“One time I caught him changing. He’d gotten soaked on the way in, forgotten his umbrella. He didn’t have anything to change into, but I always kept a spare jumper in my desk, and I offered it to him. It’d be a little big. ‘That’s fine, Martin,’ he said. He even smiled at me. Maybe that’s why I didn’t leave.

“Tim sometimes makes fun of Jon’s looks, says he’s weedy, and dresses like a professor twice his age. Trying to put on experience he doesn’t have. But Jon’s beautiful, in his way. So I watched his back, the door to his office still open a crack, as he pulled his shirt over his head, and folded it carefully before setting it on a plastic bag. His shoulder blades were stark, poking out of his skin like wings, and the way the muscle in his back moved made my mouth water. I wish he’d turned around.”

Martin didn’t even mind the words anymore. What was the point in protesting anyway? Elias would just keep going, and then, and then—

“Then he put my jumper on, and it was too big. But I wished he’d always wear it, because it was something that’d touched my skin, and I imagined what it’d feel like if I were touching him, warming him as my hands ran over his back, down his chest. If Sasha hadn’t come by right then to ask me a question, I think he might’ve caught me. But she did, and I promised myself I’d never do that again. It isn’t right, such an invasion of privacy.

“But then I had my encounter with Jane Prentiss, and Jon didn’t just believe me, he was worried about me. He told me to move in, so I did. And then it got even worse.”

All Martin could do was stare at the Elias’s desk, eyes tracing the swirling curves of a knothole, and wishing he could disappear into them.

“Do you want me to continue, Martin? Or are we done with this ridiculous exercise?”

He could leave. He should leave.

“You need be give Jon a break,” he said. He didn’t regret it. Whatever came next would be less shameful than backing down.

“Very well,” Elias said. He took a sip of his tea. Martin hoped it’d gone cold.

“Jon works long hours, so I see him more now that I’m living here. And I know with everything going on, the threats, maybe I’m not handling it well, but neither is he. So I help, make him tea. And sometimes—sometimes I watch.

“It’s the little things, really, how Jon twirls a pen in his long, elegant fingers, or the way greying hair falls into his eyes. He’s my age, but I was surprised to find that out. He looks older, so I figure he’s always taken things too hard. That he needs someone like, well, like me.”

Martin kept his face as blank as he could. Elias wanted a reaction from him, wanted to use the information to control him. He wouldn’t let him.

“Maybe that’s why the dreams started. At first, they were pretty hazy, just normal sex dreams. And sure, maybe the man in them looked a bit more like Jon, but I’d had dreams about Tim before. It doesn’t mean anything. But then the dreams started happening during the day. When I hand him his tea in the morning, I wonder, what would happen if I kiss him? Probably get tea thrown in my face, but I can’t stop thinking about it

“And then one morning, when I wake up hard like I have most days for weeks, I think, why not? Jon will never know, so who will it hurt if I think about him while I have a wank? And it’s so early even Jon won’t be here for hours yet.”

Elias met his eyes. Martin stared at the wall, and watched the ticking of the clock.

“So I go into his office. I shouldn’t have, I know that. But I’m under a lot of stress, and it seems harmless. He’ll never know. I sit in his chair, and close my eyes. I’m already not wearing trousers, so I just stick my hand into my pants. I don’t want to make a mess, you see. And as I run my clumsy hands over my cock, I imagine it’s Jon, with his graceful fingers. And that his voice isn’t doing those damned recordings, but that he’s telling me how much he appreciates what I do. How he’d like to thank me.”

He tasted iron on his tongue, and put his hand to his mouth. It came away red. This had to end. Because it was torture, because just hearing it now, even told by Elias, he couldn’t help but think of Jon, and he was getting painfully hard. And he couldn’t do this now. Not with Elias here. 

“And I come like that. Even on his desk, a bit. I make sure to clean it up, but I’m secretly pleased, that I’ve made a bit of a mark on something that’s Jon’s.”

Elias trailed off, and the tape recorder clicked. Martin bit his lip harder, and told himself that was why his eyes were watering.

“Shall I continue?”

“No.” He wasn’t strong enough. Not for this. Not for Jon. He watched as Elias reached into the recorder and plucked out the tape. His movements were almost careless, but the way he held it made it seem something precious.

“Now, Martin, what would Jon think if I gave this recording to him? Even on the unlikely chance he returned your feelings, can you imagine the stress this would cause him? This really isn’t time for any sort of relationship. He needs all his focus on his work. Anything else could prove fatal.”  
Everything he said was so matter of fact. So simple, so easy. Like the only logical course was to do exactly what he wanted, and that he was was simply exasperated it had taken Martin so long to get there.

“You’re a monster.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. He was close to tears. He couldn’t let Elias see. 

Elias sighed, and tucked the tape into a desk drawer. He stood, gesturing for Martin to follow, and tugged open the door.

“Have a nice day,” Elias said, then shut the door behind him.

Martin didn’t look back.


End file.
